


I Promise

by the_many_splendored



Series: House of Barber [1]
Category: Marriage Story (2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Renaissance, Bodyguard, Bodyguard Romance, F/M, Interclass Marriage, Loss of Virginity, Nicole Has Passed, Power Dynamics, Reader is a commoner, Royalty, Widowed Charlie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:28:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26367193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_many_splendored/pseuds/the_many_splendored
Summary: After Queen Nicole's death, the captain of her Ladies-at-Arms can't bear the thought of leaving the king and his young son alone with their grief.
Relationships: Charlie Barber/Reader, Charlie Barber/You, past Charlie/Nicole
Series: House of Barber [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2001781
Comments: 8
Kudos: 23





	I Promise

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Quest For Dreams](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/680476) by UltraHypnosis. 



> Am I playing a bit loose with the sexual politics of the time? Sure. Is it still fun? I hope so!

**_November 2 nd, 1537_ **

Queen Nicole’s state funeral is well-attended, for she _was_ well loved. She inspired many, and even the prissiest of the nobles are braving the rain and the mud to support King Charles and Prince Henry in their time of need. “Poor lad,” you hear people whisper. “Eight is far too young to lose your mother.”

Almost everyone present is crying – except for you. It’s not for lack of love – the late queen treated you like her own sister. However, as captain of the Ladies-at-Arms, your responsibility is to put on a brave face so that the king and prince can safely grieve. Vigilance is your motto – you know full well that there are those who would take advantage of the national day of mourning to cause trouble.

Thankfully, the Mass goes smoothly, even though the young prince is clearly distraught. When the casket is carried out, you and your team are first behind the bishop and the royal family as they leave for the burial grounds. The rain makes the passage slightly difficult, but King Charles and Prince Henry are able to say goodbye in the House of Barber’s ancestral grave plot.

After he throws the last handful of dirt over his wife’s grave, the king turns to you, the tears in his eyes the only sign of what he must be struggling with. “Captain, please escort my son back to the castle – I’ll be along with my own guards shortly.”

“As you wish, Majesty.” You offer Prince Henry your hand, and he takes it. Signaling the other women, you turn away, verifying that your dagger is still in the scabbard on your hip. Once you know it’s secure, you nod and the group of you head back to the road. It’s only later that night after you’ve done your rounds that you finally have a chance to be alone – and the tears rip out of you in a torrent.

**_November 6 th, 1537_ **

At the request of your ladies, you approach the king’s chambers. His guards nod to you, and you enter his rooms. He’s seated at a large desk with papers spread all over, and you wonder if he’s writing some new piece of literature. The queen had told you once before that when her husband required a break, writing was often his solace.

When he looks up and sees you, he doesn’t smile, but the set of his shoulders eases. “Captain, I wasn’t expecting you. Is something wrong?”

“I hope not, sire,” you say. “My ladies brought something to my attention, and I realized I was not the person who would have the answer. With the Queen’s passing, they’re concerned about their futures. Many of them were the income providers for their households.” Your hands are behind your back, and you feeling your fingers twisting together. “They wouldn’t be impertinent as to ask about financial matters at such a time if it weren’t a serious matter.”

He nods. “I understand their concerns, but they need not worry. When my late wife realized her time was coming, she had her will drawn up and it included two years’ pension for each of you. It will become available in the new year. The Ladies-at-Arms may be disbanded, but I promise, they haven’t been forgotten.”

You’re sure your relief is written all over your face. “Thank you, sire. I wasn’t as worried about myself, since I’m unwed, but the others all have children and husbands.”

“What will you do then, captain?” the king asks. “Will you strike out on your own? I would be happy to write you a recommendation to anyone who might require your services.”

Making the request on behalf of your ladies was bold enough, so you hope you’re not overstepping with your next petition. “It’s generous of you, my liege – but if I could stay on in the royal service, I think that would be best for me. I’ve lived in the palace since I was 13; I don’t know much else different.” You would never say it out loud, but you would feel better if you could see for yourself that the king and prince are recovering.

The look King Charles gives you is slightly confused, but he nods just the same. “Understood – you’ll of course keep your rank. It’s only fair given your length of service.”

**_January 6 th, 1538_ **

If Queen Nicole was a kind mistress, King Charles is a fair but firm master. He trusts you as his new captain, but he is also more particular in how he wishes things to be handled. After your transfer to his service, he has had a new wardrobe made for you that is notably better cut and of better quality than what you had before, though still practical for your purposes. Your reports are expected more often, and you swear that you’ve walked the circuit of the castle more times in the last two months than you ever did in the queen’s service. If the king wants a perimeter check, then a perimeter check he will have, and there won’t be an argument.

Something in the air this afternoon isn’t right, and you’re thankful that you have enough guardsmen to look after both the king and the prince. The two of them are having a quiet Epiphany celebration together in the courtyard after the Royal Mass, and you wish you could feel as at ease as they seem to be while they eat their desserts.

Come to think of it, there’s only one other time you remember when you had the sense that you were on the edge of danger. Many years ago, when the queen was with child, she had been out on a ride when her horse was suddenly spooked by a snake. If you and your ladies hadn’t been there to calm the animal, the queen would have been thrown and she and the baby likely would have been killed. You’re distracted from the memory when you hear a strange noise from the castle ramparts. Your eyes flick up – straight into the gaze of a cloaked archer who has the king in his sights.

You would shout a warning to His Majesty, but there’s no time. You tackle him to the ground, and an arrow lands right beside your head. Thankfully your second, Hugh, has already grabbed Prince Henry in his arms to protect him.

You look down into the king’s eyes, and you see the moment where he realizes what just happened. Rolling to his feet, he grabs your hand, and even though it’s hard to keep up with his long strides, you run as fast as you can with him until you, he, the prince, Hugh and the other guards are safely inside the nearest door. Mercifully, you’re in the wing where there’s a safe room that only you and Hugh have the keys to.

Once the royal family is safely stowed, the king holds his son tight with his free arm; they’re both shaking. You’re no mind-reader, but you can easily imagine what they’re both thinking – “Thank God I didn’t lose you too.” You realize, the king never let go of your hand.

Hugh looks down at your hand linked with the king’s, and you look pleadingly at your lieutenant, silently begging him not to say anything. He takes your meaning, and so as to not embarrass you, he asks, “Captain, what are your orders?”

In the strongest voice you can manage given the pounding of your heart, you say, “I want all of you to search the palace thoroughly and see if you can find any sign of the attacker. While you’re doing that, make sure that the other residents of the castle are accounted for – he may have attempted to hurt others. Report back your findings with all possible haste. I will stay with the king and the prince.” He nods, splits the guardsmen into three patrols, and locks the door behind him when he leaves.

Thankfully, the saferoom has some decent food and beds, because as it happens, the fruitless search takes all night. When Hugh and the others return in the morning, they find the three of you asleep together in the largest bed. The king is holding his son tightly, but Hugh could swear, it looks like he also reached out to you in his sleep.

**_March 11 th, 1538_ **

You never did discover who the Epiphany Day assailant was. However, the guardsmen have been able to do some investigating since the attack. Hugh was Master of Intelligence to King Charles’ father, and he’s put out several spies throughout the kingdom. When the spies return, the news isn’t encouraging.

It was no secret back in the day that the previous king had serious issues, but his claim was just, or at least, that was what you had always heard. However, the spies bring news that vicious rumors are starting to swirl. No one is questioning the king’s right to succeed his father, but there are now questions of whether or not the House of Barber even has a claim to the throne.

Hugh presents the findings to you and the king, and you can’t help a groan of annoyance. “So there’s no organized rebellion, but the archer could have been merely inspired by the rhetoric? That’s not encouraging.”

The king’s response is even more dour. “I should have known that without my wife here, things would start to fall apart. No one would have dared move against me while she was still alive.”

“I wish I knew what to tell you, Sire,” you say. “You know we’ll do everything in our power to protect you and your family, but we can’t see the future.” You’ve been sitting next to him, and you push your chair away to leave. It’s been a long day, and the idea of returning to your bed has been playing at your mind all evening.

He gently takes your hand, but it’s clear you’re not being allowed to leave. “Captain, for my peace of mind, I’d like you to stay on permanent assignment to my quarters each night. I’ll have your things brought, of course – but I want to know that whoever’s closest to me and my son is someone I can trust. Hugh and the guardsmen will have the perimeter of the castle.”

You look into his eyes and see them almost burning amber. Is he that afraid of being alone? Whatever his reasoning, you’re moved in the next day, and you never do return to your original room.

**_April 29 th, 1538_ **

You learned quickly that because King Charles has access to enough space, you still have some privacy in the royal chambers. His room is the central hub, but yours is the room that visitors have to pass through to see him, and the prince’s bedroom is two farther beyond that so no one can access his chambers “accidentally.” The King has been nothing but proper with you since you moved in, but something changes today.

The only thing you can think of is that today marks six months since Queen Nicole’s death – and the king seems almost afraid to let you or his son out of his sight. Every meeting, every meal – he needs to have both of you within arm’s reach. He eases up when you escort Prince Henry safely to bed for the evening, but even then, he won’t let _you_ walk into your own room.

“Captain, come and sit with me, please.” When you turn around, you don’t see a spare chair. When he sees your questioning expression, he pats his own leg, indicating you should sit on his lap.

You’d like to think he wouldn’t be insulted if you refused, but you don’t want to disobey your monarch either. You sit on his legs, and you can’t help a shiver when you feel the heat of his legs through your clothes. You forget sometimes how well he’s built.

He turns your chin so you’re facing him, and your lips part as you wonder if he’s going to kiss you. His eyes do briefly flick to your lips, but then he has you look him in the face. “Captain…there is something I want to tell you, and I need it kept in the strictest confidence. Do you understand?” He’s not angry, but there’s a new set to his jaw that makes it clear he’s being serious.

“Of course, sire.”

“Thank you.” He kisses the swell of your cheek, and you fiddle aimlessly with some of the decorations on his doublet. His hands are soothing as he traces up and down your spine, but his voice is sorrowful when he says, “I think the unrest in the kingdom is my fault.”

The tension in his jaw is still there, but his eyes are blinking back tears. You can tell he doesn’t wish to be interrupted, so you simply lean on his shoulder and listen to the rhythm of his breathing. “You remember my saying that things haven’t been right since the Queen passed – but what if it’s my fault she’s gone?”

You tense up, your hand automatically going to your dagger. Your lord and master wouldn’t be about to confess to a murder, would he?

He feels you shift in his arms, and he hugs you tightly, placing a hand over yours and tangling your fingers together. “I know how that sounds, but please listen to me.”

As calmly as you can, you say, “I’m listening.”

He lets go of your fingers, but opts to stroke your palm with his thumb. “In…the last year of our marriage, the Queen and I were starting to fall out of love. I thought it was because I had taken a mistress, but even after I dismissed the woman, we never seemed to be able to trust each other again. She was..” He gulps, and you wonder if he’s told anyone else about this. “She was seriously considering petitioning the Pope to grant a divorce. When she told me that, I flew into a rage and…” His voice finally breaks, and you feel him start to shake. “I told her that if I knew our son would survive her loss, I would rather she die than bring the Vatican into our private business.”

You know the power the words of a king can have, so when he says, “I cursed her! I cursed my own wife!” you understand exactly why he believes that. “She was ill within the day, and I could never bring myself to ask for her forgiveness.”

From what little you know of theology, you’re sure that God knew that death wasn’t the king’s true wish, but you can tell that your words will ring hollow. Instead you wiggle a bit so that you can loop your arms around his neck and run your fingers through his hair. Whatever soothing you can provide, you’ll gladly give.

After a few minutes, he looks up at you and says, “You’re dear to me, captain, and I don’t want to repeat my mistakes – if I’ve done you wrong, please…please tell me.”

You shake your head. “Never, sire – not even once.”

He doesn’t kiss you that night, but you do fall asleep in his bed. If you start dreaming about a family made up of you, a raven-haired husband and a brown-haired son? Well, that’s your fault, not his.

**_May 5 th, 1538_ **

In the middle of a rainy afternoon, the king pulls you away from a meeting, and you’re afraid at first that something terrible has happened. However, the two of you return to your chambers, and he pulls you into a bruising kiss after his door closes and the two of you are alone. His lips are soft, and you can’t deny how sensual it feels to run your fingers over his chest as he tastes your mouth.

It’s when he maneuvers you to his bed that you start to panic. You’ve only just found out that he actually wants you, you can’t process the idea of being intimate with him yet.

He senses your tension and asks, “Would you deny your king?” His tone is playful, the happiest it’s sounded in weeks, but you’re still afraid.

“Sire, please…” You hope he won’t laugh, but you have to tell him the truth. “I’m a virgin.”

That genuinely catches him off guard, and he stares down at you in confusion. “Captain, I don’t follow your point. What should your virginity have to do with whether or not you care for me?” He cups your cheek in one of his large hands. “You do care for me, don’t you?”

You nod. “I do, but I’m afraid…” God, how to say this next part without sounding like a fool? “I’m afraid that if I give myself to you, I’ll never love anyone else.”

Now he looks not confused, but utterly thunderstruck. “You…you love me?”

“I do.”

“Does anyone else know?”

“Not a soul.” Truth be told, you hadn’t had the words until just now to even say how you were feeling, but now the words won’t stop. “Please, sire, tell me what to do and I’ll do it, because I am paralyzed! If you want me here, I’ll be here, if you want me to go back to the guard post, I will, but-”

“Be my wife.”

“….what did you say?” Surely your ears must be deceiving you, because there’s no way he just said-

“That is my order to you, my darling – be my bride.” His smile becomes warmer and he kisses both your cheeks. “There’s no one else I trust as much as you, or who I could imagine being a mother to my Henry. Please say you’ll marry me, and I’ll handle the arrangements.”

“…yes.” Hadn’t you promised yourself, after all, that you would make sure the king and prince would stay safe?

**_May 15 th, 1538_ **

True to his word, the king handles the wedding arrangements, but none of it feels real to you until you return to your shared quarters after the ceremony. A meal has been prepared, and as you reach for a glass of wine, his hand brushes yours and your rings clink against each other. It almost sounds like a chime saying “Mine!”

You’re happy, truly, but the glass shakes in your hand as you say out loud, “I’m your wife….oh GOD I’m your wife…”

Seeing your nerves, your husband takes the glass from your hands. “Let me show my wife my devotion.” He has you sit on the bed, but he doesn’t immediately move to undress you. Instead, he takes both your hands, kissing each one on the palm. “These are the hands of my captain…and my queen.”

With those same hands, you pull him close to you and kiss his eyelids. “My king…and my husband.”

He pushes you slowly back on the bed, a large hand starting to hitch up your skirt. “Say it again, darling.” He kisses your neck and you think you’ll melt.

“My husband…” you sigh, and his lips pull back so he can nibble slightly.

“What does my darling wife need?” He murmurs against your throat.

“Charles, please….”

You feel him smile against your skin. “We’re married, darling – you may call me Charlie.” The hand that was under your skirt has now reached up your thigh and is gently massaging the flesh there. You can tell you’re aroused, but at the same time, the massage is soothing and you feel your eyelids flutter. “I need to understand something, my dear,” he says. “You’ve said you’re a virgin, and I believe you – but how much of a virgin are you? Has anyone ever touched you like this before?”

You shake your head. “Never – I’ve always had to guard myself, I never wanted to let anyone get that close in case they were using me to hurt the Queen.”

You’re afraid he’ll wince at the mention of his late wife, but he kisses the side of your face. “My clever captain, always protecting our family – and it IS ours now.” You look up into his eyes, and his smile grows almost wicked. “It seems I have much to teach you.”

His hand moves into the area between your legs, and you nearly arch off the bed in shock. You’re no fool, you know your anatomy, but you hadn’t realized how brushing your cunt with the appropriate fingers could feel like being hit by lightning. Charlie’s fingers are deft, and as he slides them around your folds, all you can do is moan when he hits an especially good spot. When he slides a large finger into you and begins to work it in and out, you could nearly cry with pleasure.

You would happily let him finger you for longer, but you both know that consummation will be needed so that no one can come back and claim the marriage wasn’t sound. To prepare you, Charlie adds a second finger, and you can’t restrain the hiss between your teeth when the stretch hits you. “Breathe, my darling,” he whispers as he continues to fuck you with his hand. “I promise it will make it easier.”

It’s true – once you’re able to catch your breath, you feel yourself open up as you exhale. His fingers slip deeper, and with his other hand, he undoes his breeches. Not having had a previous frame of reference, you can’t say if his cock is large or not, but you find your mouth watering at the sight of it.

He follows your eyes, and he chuckles. “Believe me, my dear, I would normally ask you to suck my cock first, and then I would worship your cunt with my tongue…but I don’t think either of us want to wait.” He grabs a pillow from the head of the bed and places it under your hips.

“Thank you…” you manage to say, before he takes his cock and runs the tip along your folds and your clit. “Please…please…”

“I will,” he swears. “I promise, I’ll give you everything you want, and then some.” With that promise, he kisses you one more time, and slowly begins to push inside you. “How does my cock feel?”

“It’s…ah…it’s stretching…” With how slowly he’s going, you can feel every ridge, every catch, as he slides against your walls.

“That’s my girl…keep breathing.” You hadn’t even been realizing you were holding your breath. With another sigh, you loosen again, and he pushes in all the way to the hilt.

You whine unintentionally, and Charlie kisses your hairline. “You’re doing so well for me…I’m going to move now. If you can meet me with your hips, that should help.” He withdraws – and when he pushes back in, you let out an obscene moan.

“Oh Charlie…don’t stop…”

“I won’t, darling, I won’t.” Gripping your hips, he begins to set an athletic pace, and you try to drive your hips up to his with at least every other thrust. There’s a touch of pain, but it soon fades, and you lose yourself in the feeling of Charlie’s cock. When he reaches down to rub your clit, you nearly black out from how good it feels, and Charlie appears to have an idea.

“Dear, I want to try something – hold on tight to me.” You wrap your arms around his neck, and without disconnecting, he carefully turns over so that you can now properly ride him. “Is this better?” he asks with an experimental buck of his hips

“Yes, oh god, yes…” the new position doesn’t have him as deep, but the angle is giving your clit the friction it sorely needs, and you find it’s easy to roll your hips on his and control your pace – which is getting faster by the second.

“Do you think you can come for me, darling? Do you know how?”

You shake your head – “I was never able to figure it out for myself, I don’t know how it would feel…”

He kisses one of your hands before pulling you close to his chest and starting to piston his hips against yours. “I think I can help you – if you feel a sensation of something building along your spine, then we have the right position.”

Almost immediately, you start getting the feeling of a knot forming almost directly behind your hips. “Oh Charlie, it’s there, it’s building…”

“Hang on to me, my love, I’ll take care of you.” He wraps his arms tightly around you, and hits the spot inside you again and again, his fingers running up and down your spine.

You barely have time to register the fact that he called you “my love” before you get the feeling of approaching a crest. Without even being sure what to expect, you practically beg, “Charlie, I want to come for you, please!”

The hand on your spine flattens, as if he’s trying to keep you from falling over, and he says, “I think we’re almost there, darling, I promise, I won’t stop until we’re sure.” You can tell you’re tightening around his cock – and the pressure suddenly switches to something you’ve never felt before. Charlie pushes one final thrust – and you feel the knot inside of you pop. Your orgasm rushes out from the base of your back across your hips, almost putting you in a trance.

Charlie keeps thrusting until he finishes inside you – you wouldn’t have even noticed, but as he holds you, he whispers, “We’re going to fix things, my love – you, me and our family. That’s a promise.”


End file.
